


things that go bump in the mortuary drawers

by afterism



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Extra Trick, F/F, Horror, Hospitals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-28
Updated: 2015-10-28
Packaged: 2018-04-28 16:39:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5097686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterism/pseuds/afterism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You can try telling the mortuary guys that the morgue feels creepy, if you want."</p>
            </blockquote>





	things that go bump in the mortuary drawers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ElasticElla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElasticElla/gifts).



"Can I help you?" Claire asks, and the woman peering into the fourth floor store cupboard flinches back. She spins around on the flat of her heels, blonde hair whipping and she looks, for a moment, almost angry, but it's gone before her hair is settled across her shoulders.

"Hi," the blonde says, her face suddenly bright and innocent. "I'm looking for Claire Temple? She's a nurse here -"

"Who's asking?" Claire says, folding her arms. The blonde sucks in a breath and then studies her for a moment, considering.

"Karen Page," she says, and it doesn't sound like a lie. "I work for Nelson and Murdock," she clarifies, and the end of it just catches into a question.

Claire lets her shoulders drop an inch. "Did Matt send you?"

" _Yes_ ," Karen breathes, eyes wide, and steps closer. "You're Claire? He said something about you possibly needing help?"

"I said it wasn't an emergency," Claire says, with a shrug. She keeps her arms folded across her chest. "Where is he?"

"Matt? He's, um, busy -" Karen says, her gaze skittering past, and _oh_ , Claire thinks. She bites her lip.

"Yeah, I saw the news," she says, and grins. Karen's mouth flashes through an uncertain smile, ducking her head and tucking her hair behind her ear all in one motion.

"Yeah. Well, that's why he sent me. Because it's not an emergency. What's the problem?"

"It's, er -" Claire starts, before her eyes snag on a movement at the end of the corridor. It's just one of the doctors, her eyes fixed on the chart in her hands as she strides towards them, but Claire wraps her hand around Karen's elbow and steers her towards the store cupboard anyway. "A small legal matter I need some advice with," she says to the air, and then shuts the door firmly behind them.

"Really?" Karen says. It smells faintly of chlorine and rubber.

"I don't need everyone thinking I'm crazy," Claire says, and runs her fingertips through her hair down to her ponytail.

"I can promise not to laugh, if that'll help?" Karen says, her grin slipping sideways, and honestly, Claire made her decision as soon as she touched Karen's arm. She looks to the ceiling for strength.

"I was hoping for someone with super senses to tell me what the hell is going on, but frankly another pair of eyes just to tell me I'm not going mad? That would work for me right now. Have you got a while?"

"I've got all night, if you need me," Karen says, with an over-bright smile that Claire suddenly wants to take apart and find the black hole in the center.

Claire huffs a kind of laugh instead, wrapping a hand around the back of her neck, rolling her shoulders. "When I said it wasn't an emergency, I just didn't want him knowing how freaked out I was."

Karen's mouth does something strange; a twist and there's steel behind it, a shift in her stance that looks like she's almost ready to shoot. "Whatever it is," she starts, and then she reaches out across the shallow distance between them, her fingertips catching Claire's wrist like an anchor. "I can handle it."

"We'll see," Claire says, and takes a breath, and opens the door.

\----

"Have you mentioned it to the staff in there?"

Claire glances at her without moving her head. "You can try telling the mortuary guys that the morgue feels creepy, if you want."

Karen _tsks_ her tongue, shrugs that off. "Have you seen it often?"

Claire hesitates - her step falters and Karen draws up short beside her. The basement corridor is empty, flood-lit and seemingly endless. The morgue is at the other end.

"Only once," Claire says, exhaling roughly. "And I ran like hell, and then I texted Matt. Before today it was just - weird noises when no one should be around, you know? And this _feeling_ , like... like... fuck, I don't know," Claire says, scrubbing a hand across her face. "I've never been scared to come down here before."

Her fingers are trembling when Karen wraps her hand around them.

"I have a full canister of pepper spray and I once punched the Devil of Hell's Kitchen in the face," Karen says, and grins when Claire snorts out a shaky laugh. "We've got this."

Claire squeezes her hand, and doesn't let go. "Let's do this, then," she says, and leads the way.

They reach the double doors a lot sooner than Karen would like. The lights are still bright, flooding everything stark and clean, but the morgue still seems to be filled with more shadows than there should be as Claire sets the door swinging open with a single push, and pulls Karen inside. Her hand is warm and steady against hers, and Karen is suddenly desperately glad that she's still holding on.

The doors swing shut behind them with a creaking thump. There's the distinct, sickly feeling that something is watching her, a shiver coiled and stuck in her spine, but Karen hasn't been in enough morgues to know if that's normal or not.

"Now what?" Karen whispers - there's no one else here, no reason to keep her voice down, but the silence feels expectant. She doesn't want to disturb it.

Something metallic thuds to her right, but when she looks all she sees is the wall of drawers with the small tags and the large locking handles.

"Oh, God," Karen moans, and then Claire gives a small, pained sound and tugs at her hand.

Karen looks back, to the far wall beyond the slabs, and feels ice crack through her veins.

There's something coalescing out of the shadows, something with not enough eyes and too many mouths, something with skin that looks like it's been at the bottom of the river for months, something that smells like the well in Karen's hometown and has glistening hands that are reaching out, something that groans in a way that skips the ears and goes straight for the guts -

"Run," Claire gasps, and pulls Karen off her feet, the shock of almost-falling enough to snap her muscles back to life and they run, crashing through the doors and down the corridor with slapping footsteps that chase them all the way, even as they burst through into the stairwell and take them three at a time.

"Definitely not just you," Karen pants between gasping, painful breaths.

Claire just groans and keeps going. They're still holding hands but Karen doesn't want to let go and Claire isn't, so they keep pace and stumble out onto the ground floor with a cry -

And then pull short, because it's Saturday night and the ER is bustling, humans everywhere. Karen watches a man in a suit try to work his phone while holding an ice pack against his jaw and almost cries in relief.

Claire slumps against the wall, catching her breath. "I think we'll leave that to the superheroes," she says, eventually.

Karen swallows down the taste of blood, and nods. "Definitely more their thing," she agrees, and glances towards the stairwell door. "I know a bar nearby where we can -"

" _Yes_ ," Claire says.


End file.
